The Fun of Baking
by LightWoman
Summary: Gillian's baking a cake when Cal pops round for a visit. Cue a lot of flirting...


So, I made a cake at the weekend, and this little scenario just popped into my head as I was flitting about the kitchen. Sadly, my afternoon didn't pan out quite like Gillian's, but still. A girl can dream!

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, blah blah blah**

The Fun of Baking

Gillian hummed quietly to herself as she carefully sifted the flour into her cake mix. It was Saturday morning, and she'd woken up with the intense desire to make a cake – and to sit down and devour the whole thing, if she was honest. She added some cocoa powder to the mix, then a little more, smiling as she began mixing it all together with a large wooden spoon. Just as she was about to pour it into the cake tins, she heard a knock on the door. Wiping her hands quickly on her jeans, she hurried through the lounge and opened the door to greet her early morning visitor.

Cal was stood on Gillian's doorstep, waiting (not very patiently) for her to arrive and let him in. He was clutching a fistful of papers – a poor excuse to visit her, but he'd take whatever he could get – and he was just hoping she didn't already have plans for the day. Not that he was planning to spend the whole day with her, of course. Well, possibly.

When she did open the door, he couldn't help smiling at the sight of her. He'd always appreciated how she could look beautiful no matter what the occasion, whether it be looking stunning in one of those dresses she liked wearing around the office to tempt him or simply beautiful in jeans and a white sweater, hair tied back in a loose ponytail and no makeup. And a smudge of flour on her nose. His grin widened.

"Morning, Cal," she said. "Come in. I'm just making a cake."

"I can see that, love." He gestured to her nose, and she rubbed at it.

"Oh. Thanks."

He followed her through to the kitchen and seated himself at a stool at her breakfast bar. "What kind of cake is it?"

"Chocolate," she said, and he laughed.

"Of course. Silly question." He watched as she continued swirling the mixture together with the spoon, then dipped her finger into the mixture and licked it off.

"Mmm. That's good." She turned to him with a mischievous smile. "Want to try some?"

He was about to decline – raw cake mix never having been one of his favourites – when Gillian dipped her finger into the mixture again and leant across the breakfast bar, holding her hand in front of Cal's face. Slowly, never taking his eyes off hers, he wrapped his lips around her finger and licked the cake mixture off. What surprised him even more than Gillian's action was the sexy smile on her face as she watched him suck her finger.

When he released her finger, she wiped her hands on a cloth, then began pouring the mixture into her cake tins, resuming her quiet humming.

"You're in a very flirtatious mood today, Foster," he commented.

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," he said quickly.

"Well, if you're lucky I might let you lick more than just my finger." She giggled as she saw his eyes widen. "The mixing bowl, Cal," she clarified, her eyes shining. "What did you think I meant?"

"I was thinking of the bowl, of course," he said, standing up and walking around the other side of the unit.

"Mm hmm," she said, levelling out the mixture with a spatula. She bent down to open the oven door, and Cal's eyes were immediately drawn to her ass, admiring how very well she was wearing those tight jeans. She placed the tins in the oven, shut it quickly and put the timer on.

"So," she said, wiping her hands across her jeans and leaving another smudge of flour. "What can I do for you today, Cal?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

"What can I do for you today," she repeated as she turned the taps on and began filling up the sink with warm water. "Why are you here?"

"Oh," he said. "Yeah. Well, I wanted your opinion on this." He gestured to the pile of papers.

Gillian nodded. "Okay."

She turned off the taps, pulled up a stool and sat down, and he followed suit. For the next ten minutes they reviewed the files, with Gillian agreeing with Cal's assessment of the case. She'd poured them both a glass of orange juice, which they drank as they worked. Gillian couldn't help laughing at the way Cal scrunched his nose up every time he took a sip. "Bloody pulp. How do you stand it?"

"I like orange juice with pulp." She grinned at him as she took another sip, licking her lips. "Mmm. So good."

He shook his head, amused but also so bloody _aroused_. How the hell did she manage to be so sexy and adorable at the same time? "What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What, what?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, 'orange juice with pulp is not the way God intended us to eat oranges."

"Oh, and you know all about God's intentions for our consumption of citrus fruits, do you Mr Orange?"

"Absolutely." He grinned at her, but took another swig anyway. "Bleurgh. Insane."

She pushed the stool back and headed towards the sink. "Well, if you're done forcing me to work on a Saturday, I'll get back to my washing up."

"That also qualifies as work, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but work that needs to be done. _That_ work, however," she gestured to the pile of papers spread out before Cal, "I have a feeling did _not _need to be done. At least not by me. Am I right?"

"Possibly." He flicked his gaze over her a couple of times as she tested the water, running a little more hot in to warm it up again. "Nothing wrong with a fresh pair of eyes though, is there?"

"No, no, not at all. But since I helped you with _your _work, I think you should help me with mine. Here." She threw a teatowl at him. He caught it with one hand, then wordlessly got up and walked around to stand next to her.

"Fair enough."

She passed him a spoon, and he quickly dried it with the towel and placed it back in the pot of spoons on the unit.

"Do you want me to get an apron for you to wear if you're doing domestic duties?" she asking teasingly.

"Oh, want to see me in an apron again, do you? I knew it was becoming, I had no idea it was such a babe magnet."

"Oh, I'm a babe now, am I?"

He began to dry up the whisk she'd just passed him. "Hell yeah," he said, and she bit her lip for a fraction of a second before smiling.

"I see."

They continued for a couple of minutes, her washing and him drying, silent apart from the tune she'd resumed humming. He'd just turned around to put a measuring jug in the cupboard when he felt a splash of water on his arm. He turned, and she flicked water at him again, this time his face.

"Oi!" She giggled. "Flirting with me again, Foster?"

She shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Maybe."

"Bit unfair, though. You have water as a weapon, and what have I got?" His eyes fell to the tea towel in his hand.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, seeing the wicked glint in his eye. "Cal…"

He flicked the towel at her and she yelped and jumped backwards, furiously flicking more water at him.

"You'll drench my shirt if you're not careful, love. Then I'll have to take it off... is that what you want?" She responded by sending another splash of water his way. "Oh, it clearly is. I knew you weren't a good girl."

"Now who's flirting?" she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Still you," he said, dropping the towel on the unit. "And maybe me a little bit." She laughed. "You're a tease, you are." He grinned at her. "All this flirting that goes nowhere… what's a poor guy like me to do?"

"So maybe we should stop," she said casually, draining the water from the bowl.

"Stop flirting?"

"Stop not letting it go anywhere."

He swallowed, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "What are you saying, Foster?"

"I'm saying… that if you were to kiss me right now, I… wouldn't object." She gave him a playful grin.

"Oh, so you want me to make the first move, is that it?"

She shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to…"

It took him less than a second to close the distance between them. His lips were on hers, his tongue demanding entry as he wrapped his arms around her. She responded, sliding her hands up his back and into his hair as he spun her around, pressing her against the refrigerator. She shifted slightly to avoid the fridge magnets pressing into her back, and continued kissing him with the same enthusiasm, the passion she felt overwhelming her. He shifted his lips from her mouth to her neck, and felt her push her hips against him and let out a little moan when he began sucking and kissing just below her ear.

"Like that, do you, love?" he murmured, and she responded with another moan of pleasure, her hands increasing their grip on his shoulders. He returned his lips to her neck and she closed her eyes with a small sigh.

Suddenly the beeping of the oven timer caused her eyes to snap open. "My cake!"

"Leave it," he growled as he continued to kiss her neck.

"I can't, Cal, it'll burn!"

She pushed him away from her and hurried towards the oven. Cal grunted at the loss of contact, and watched as she bent to open the oven and pulled the cake tins out. "Right, it's out," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Where were we?"

"I have to just check it's done," she said, trying to focus on what she was doing and not the fact that Cal was now gently biting her ear lobe and stroking her stomach, his hands sliding under her sweater.

"And how long will that take?"

"It's done," she said, turning the oven off.

"Good." He spun her around so she was facing him and pressed his lips to hers again.

"Cal," she said, pulling away, and he growled in annoyance.

"Don't tell me you're going to ice the bloody thing now. For the love of God…"

"No." She giggled. "I do have to put it on the wire rack to cool, though."

He stepped back with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Sort your cake out. If that's more important to you than making out with me…"

She laughed. "Well, my cake is pretty tasty…" She quickly transferred them to the cooling rack, then turned around. "But then, so are you."

"Took you long enough to find that out though, didn't it?"

"Well." She shrugged. "You could have made a move before today."

"What?" He looked completely confused, and she couldn't resist laughing again. "Are you saying that if I'd kissed you before, you would have… we would have…" He gestured between them, and she gave him a playful grin.

"I kept waiting, Cal. In the end, I had to really crank up the flirting, didn't I? And even then, I had to spell it out for you…"

"Oi!" he said. "I've wanted to kiss you for a bloody long time you know! I was just respecting the damn line, and the fact that you were married until a few months ago, if you recall."

"Months," she said, nodding. "You've had months, Cal. _Months._"

"So all this time…"

"I've wanted you, yes." She leant back against the counter, grinning at him.

He shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"What _I _can't believe is that you didn't know…" she teased him. "I mean, it was all there; the arousal, the lust, the desire. Right there on my face for you to see, but you didn't. Why is that, I wonder?"

"No bloody idea," he said. "But it's irrelevant now. But you know what I _really _can't believe?"

"No, Cal, what?"

"I can't believe that it's been two minutes since you pulled that bloody cake out the oven, and all we've done is _talked_."

She laughed. "If you've got an alternative idea for what my mouth should be doing right now, Cal, then please, feel free to show me."

He closed the space between them with one large stride and tugged her towards him. "Alright, darling," he murmured against her neck, feeling her shiver as he brushed a hand lightly across her throat. "If you insist."


End file.
